The Update

I haven't blogged for ages. I apologise. A lot has changed, new job, new hair, new attitude...well okay some things have changed.

So I decided earlier this year that I was going to try out new things. To start with this meant going to the theatre on my own, to see art galleries, to visit tourist sites and then I decided to branch it out to my love life.

I have always been hopeless in love. As my many stories on here tell you. So I joined a dating site. I met a few guys, to be fair I got off lucky every single one that I met was absolutely lovely..just so happened that none of us clicked that much.

First there was Alex, music DJ who was really chilled out and good fun. I did not like however the fact that everytime we went out for a drink he assumed me to be impoverished so pulled a face and said 'sooo...shall I get the drinks in, can you afford to buy one?'. I'm all for being spoilt but really. Anyway we got drunk, had a bit of a fondle and then realised actually we're really not anything special.

Then there was Mark. Mark was massive. That sounds wrong..it isn't. He was 6ft6. I should mention I'm only 5ft4 so over a foot taller than me and a rugby player. Mark was lovely. The biggest softie I've met, such a BFG (best friend or gay). As soon as we met we started outdrinking each other and discussing London Irish. Needless to say date two didn't happen but we do text each other about the rugby scores.

Then there was James. I really liked James. He wasn't that tall but was a sportsman and had a great sense of humour. Things were going really well..he'd invited me to stay for a weekend and actually genuinely seemed to find my jokes funny (great success). But then I got my new job in his building and things just...died. Let's just say the christmas party this year for work will be awkward. I did that typical girl thing of deleting him off facebook and my phone to 'get over him'. Ouch.

So after these guys I decided to rest and concentrate on work. But that can only last for a little while. My latest challenge to myself was to go on a date with a complete stranger. Someone I knew nothing about..apart from the fact that they liked burritos.

Yes that's right I went on a date with Mr Burrito man aka 52 Burrito dates. I'm not an idiot as my best friend called me when I told her about the date, I did my research. This guy seemed smart, was always nice in his blogs and was, after all, Irish. I thought I could never not get on with an Irishman. I was wrong.

You know that scene in Saw where the guy is tied up and awaiting his fate? That was the date. It was one of those situations where from minute one you could just tell you weren't going to have fun. We just didn't click. I tried my best, I asked about hobbies, his job, his favourite food etc. but was greeted with one word answers and a fake laugh. Great. So I told him about me and mentioned that I was a blokes girl and like to tell blokeish jokes. His response? Tell me one. Errr sorry do I look like a performing monkey? Unless you're Michael 'The Hero' McIntyre jokes are supposed to be spontaneous. This is clearly someone who would enjoy my mum's random cheese jokes. I then decided my last resort was to tell my attempted mugger story- which I have in fact told on here- this story everytime I tell it has people shocked and laughing. I have proof of this because I told it during my first round auditions for the tv programme Shipwrecked and it got me through to the pre final round. But do you know what I told it and it was like telling a blonde joke to Amy from The Only Way Is Essex. I just got silence. (cue haystack). That's when I knew it was over. We both made our excuses and left after just half an hour. The humour behind it all? I tried to cancel. My friend Tom was waiting round the corner beforehand and I wanted to continue drinking...but instead I went on the date. I was polite throughout and smiled A LOT. And I mean A LOT.

Needless to say my idea to branch out and try something new has hit a setback. That was horrific. And I'm not someone who would usually blog about a really bad date but let's just say if you pay a visit to 52 Dates I'm not spoken of in a nice light so felt it only fair I get my say. And just for the record after you read it..my surname's not Threadwell and I didn't go to Oxford uni. But heyho it's good to know he was paying attention!

Till my next blog post!

Apologies for belated blog post

Life is has been fairly crazy recently. I started a new job and have been slaving away trying to do things correctly despite working for free.

So I am officially bored of single life. I no longer want to be coming home to a quiet house, being perved on in sleazy clubs or date guys with secrets.
It's because of this that I finally bit the bullet and signed up to mysinglefriend.com
A friend of mine had had great success with the site previously and had met the man of her dreams so I thought I would give it a go.

If I am being honest the whole idea of online dating makes me feel very stupid and small. Let's be honest it does have an undertone of desperation so I was slightly worried what I might find. First of all was the idea of describing yourself. Am I slender, curveacous etc. I went for slender (yes inside I was laughing 'you wish' to myself but hey ho). Then it asked me if I was a smoker. Now I have been off on smoking for 6 years but I hate calling myself a smoker. I still like to think of myself as a social smoker despite having one on the way to work and one before bed. So again I lied and said an occasional smoker (my thoughts were if I did meet someone I would have to give up to support this anyway). After this my friend had to describe me, and leaving someone to describe you in not so many words is a pretty odd and unsatisfying thing. Despite this Sarah managed to do it pretty well and I was satisfied:

If you're looking for a girl who loves long walks, football, board games and loud clubs... then Abi is definitely NOT the woman for you. If on the other hand you are looking for a girl with phenomenal banter, who can make friends with anyone (in first year of uni Abi actually ended up befriending her attempted mugger), who loves the countryside (for the shooting and drinking), attends London fashion week, adores South African accents, and is a big London Irish fan then look no further.
Why, you may ask, is Abi single? Well being the owner of exceptional banter means that the majority of her friends are guys... I guess she's just prone to being stuck in the friendzone! Abi's sexy, smiley, intelligent and kind hearted (and not to mention the proud owner of a fantastic rack!). She loves to travel, she's already been to Australia, Namibia, Israel and Singapore. After completing a degree in English Abi is currently doing a journalism masters in London. Not just a pretty face...
She's not aiming too high, but if you're a rugby playing, Danny Care/Dom Waldouck look a like with fantastic chat then send her a message. She won't bite... much!

I was happy with that, wrote a short sarcastic description of myself and then moved onto pictures. This is a hard task yet again. Do you choose the one where you are striking a massive pose? Show your fun side with you drunk and dressed as a chav? Do the whole sexy outfit? It's a hard decision. I went for the standard caught unaware photo, a long distance photo and a poser photo. This was the best of the bunch. The majority of my facebook photos happen to be me posing with bob the builder, climbing a wall in my undies or me shaking my thang on the dance floor.

Once this was done I was ready to go. I decided to aim for a guy between the ages of 24 and 33. Despite me only being 22 I am deep down an old woman and can't really handle guys my age with their ability to make every saturday night a visit to a&e. Typically being a London girl I was left with quite a few options and so I began my search. I was surprised there was such a choice. Tall, thin, fat, muscly, arty, bald, model, singer, geeky, foreign etc. I have always thought myself to be someone who never had a set type but now I was starting to wonder. Part of me wanted to prove to myself that I am not shallow but in fact I was proved wrong by the amount of guys I selected who were way out of my league!! I 'added them to my favourites' and sat and waited to see what would happen next. (Granted that last time I went on an online date the guy had cystic fibrosis and I was not aware in the slightest).

I soon recieved messages ranging from normal to cheesy to insane. Ie. 'I'd mug you for your heart' or 'Will you be my princess' (why is it all foreign men seem to think that this is a winning line...in fact it makes me think of mail order brides). But I did luck out.

First up was Matty, a stacked broker from London with a pout and clearly a bit of an attitude. We exchanged a few emails and I'd decided I wanted a big rugby bloke so decided he might be a good idea. We soon arranged a date but I wussed out. Well not quite wussed out... I have one massive dislike. Bad spelling of simple words. It is so infuriating, not to mention that I find it very sexy when a guy is smarter than me (it's not that hard). So I made my excuses and am yet to reschedule :/ sorry Matty.

Then there was Tom. Tom looked like a nice, straightforward guy so we started talking. And not only was he cute but he got my ridiculous sense of humour too. We arranged drinks in Notting Hill and this time I didn't cancel. As I arrived it started to pour down with rain and I hid in the tunnel for cover. Tom called to enquire where I was and to mention that he had no umbrella (whoops). We stayed on the phone trying to locate each other and I headed towards the zebra crossing, where at the other end he was supposedly standing. I looked across and spotted a tall, good looking guy with a good fashion sense. tick, tick tick. We grabbed a drink and perched in the corner unfortunately right next to the men's loos. Classy. After two drinks we loosened up and begun to really chat. I discovered his love of dj-ing, about his family, where he lived, what his most embarrassing drunken situation was and had even told him about the night I became 'asbo abi' (a story I will soon blog about). We relocated to another pub and the conversation flowed so much so it reached 12am and I realised I needed to catch the last tube. We walked towards the tube and Tom stopped me, spun me around and kissed me. I couldn't help but wonder if this was a move he had used before, it felt rather like a cheesy movie scene. The next day we thanked each other for a good night and arranged drinks again the following week.

We met the week after and I was excited. Despite him having slight OCD ( a really bad thing considering he's obsessed with tidying his room- and my room is probably housing a family of 16) he ticked a lot of my boxes, smart, driven, charming, family orientated, good looking, honest. We returned to the same pub where I suddenly was innudated with calls from work. Despite my awkward interruptions again things went well...but this time I didn't restrain the drinks, four drinks in and I was tipsy and falling for his charms. I lent in and kissed him, and we ended up having a bit of a make out sesh. One thing led to another and due to alcohol and persuasive talk on his part I was soon back at his looking at his terrapin (not dirty he actually has one). The next morning I woke up in one of his band t-shirts, supposedly he had given me the smallest one he owned to quote 'see your boobs in the morning easier'. Hmmm... A kiss goodbye and I jumped on the tube home, a walk of shame at 9am before I had a day of interviews working from home.

What's annoying me however is the fact I am still not sure how I feel. Tom's goodlooking, funny, friendly and we get on really well but am I supposed to be having butterflies yet? Because of this I have now got four dates this week from the site.
Joe- a rugby playing guy of 6ft6 (highest heels please), Simon- a posh scot with a love of shooting, Luke- a very goodlooking guy with a love of travelling, Matt- a funny hockey player who works in media.

I'll keep you updated but for now I think I'm starting a dating addiction. This could possibly get worse.

The Curse

I can't sleep so finally decided to update my blog. What a writer I am! It clearly has nothing to do with the fact that I watched Paranormal Activity on my own and now have an active imagination when my floorboards creak.

So friday night my old housemate from university came to stay. She is one of the few girls that I can actually stand to be with for more than a few hours. Her chat consists of witty sharp banter rather than discussing how many pounds she has lost that week and which Jonas brother she'd do. She is however dirty minded as hell. Hence why we get on so well. I walked in on her many a times using handcuffs...and that was a tame night.
Anyway so we crack open a few bottles of wine and discuss work/holidays etc and then she suddenly goes quiet and looks at me. 'So Abi. How's the curse?'. The curse...I'd forgotten about the curse. In my second year of university we had just been to Fuzzy ducks (Fhm's easiest place to pull in the UK and our favourite haunt on a wednesday night) and were stumbling back home together. Suddenly she stopped stared at me and said 'Abi, you and I we're just not meant to have boyfriends at university'. We laughed it off but a strange thing happened, since that comment neither of us has managed to maintain a relationship whatsoever. Odd considering we had both managed to do the relationship thang quite well before hand.
We begun to compare notes: we had both dated older guys, both had failed. We had both dated our boss, both had failed. We had both been on an internet date, and been deeply disappointed. The pattern continued. As apparently had the curse. I know what you're thinking. All of those things have happened to lots of people. Well try having them occur over a period of 3 years. Then throw in the fact that both of us have had the WORST luck- I'm talking psycho men, men with bad B.O, guys with weird sex fetishes and stalkers. It's pretty bad.
So how to break it? Well she's moving to Australia and me? Well I think it's time to buy a puppy. Cats are so 1990s.

The Alchemist

So if you have read my last blog you will know that I met a tasty Spaniard during my time in Amsterdam. (As an update we are still in contact and I have been offered a bed there whenever I want to come visit!) Anyway the night we met for a drink I mentioned that I had studied English at University. This interested the bar man and we soon started to discuss our favourite books. He told me of his favourite book ‘The Alchemist’. I’d heard of this particular book but never read it. Spaniard then informed me that this book had been so inspiring that he had tried to live his life every day in connection with the book’s teachings. This interested me even more, a book that was so enlightening it could influenced the life of a young, outgoing, free spirited guy. If I am being honest I was jealous of Spaniard. He was so upfront about himself about the fact that he loved women, that he loved to travel, that he wanted love but until then loved sex so why not just take it when it comes. I wanted that freedom, that confidence so on returning to the UK I purchased ‘The Alchemist’ and finished it within a day.
What I took from the book was that everyone has a destiny. The universe has left you omens to follow to reach your destiny and it is whether you take notice of them that decides whether you will achieve it. I found this particularly interesting- what was my destiny? The Spaniard had told me of his previous dreams to travel, and that he had left the woman he loved in Sweden whilst he travelled in order to experience his destiny. ‘The Alchemist’ also claims that true love will wait whilst you achieve your destiny. I wondered how I could use the guiding of the book in my life. I have always had a list of things I want to do before I die. A few of them being:
1. Go cage diving with sharks in South Africa and visit my ex in Jo Bay
2. Visit the pyramids in Egypt
3. Become fluent in Italian
4. Go watch the surfing competitions in Hawaii.
5. Visit all the art galleries in Barcelona
I wondered whether this was a sign that I should start trying to tick one of these off my list? I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind and carried on with my day to day life until today. My friend put on ‘Men who stare at goats’ and in that too was the message about everyone having a destiny and should follow the omens they are given by the universe. This was definitely a sign. So I have no idea exactly what my destiny is (to me I think it will be to be a fantastic journalist with a great handbag collection and my own Friday night talk show) but I’ve decided what my next stop in life will be if I am unable to get a job by the end of August. I will go back to my monotonous retail job and save every penny I earn. Then in March I will buy a round the world ticket and travel to South Africa, New Zealand, Australia and Fiji for several months. It might not be my destiny but it is most definitely a start.

The Search

I'm still stressed.
I hate being unemployed. That sounds stupid no one LIKES to be unemployed but I physically require myself to be busy at all times. I used to think I was the perfect example of lazy (my bed and I have a very intimate relationship which in the past has seen frequent weekday naps) but according to my family and friends this is far from true. 'Oh god you not working. That's a nightmare and a half...you need to be busy. You're abi, you are always busy' my best friend moaned. I hate Jeremy Kyle, I hate wedding shows and I hate those smug sofa dwellers on This Morning. I was just not destined to be a stay at home person.
The thing is I am being picky. If it bothered me that much I could easily get my old regent street job back or work in my local bar or even take part in more work experience but I simply have upped my standards. I no longer want to make coffee for other people, want to have a temporary pass that needs to be handed in at the end of each week and be ignored by all other members of staff. I want to get paid for my manual labour, paid for my writing or styling or even my sarcastic input. So I sit here day in day out (okay it has been two weeks but it does feel like an eternity) applying to job after job after job after job.
At first it was just very casual cover letters and now...well that friend of a friend of a friend of a friend who knows someone who knows someone, well I am debating getting in touch with them and yes I will no doubt end up begging them for work.

It's not all bad however. This unemployed process has made me realise what a good impression my hard work has made on my family. My Grandma called me to say that she felt I desperately deserved a break as I had worked hard the last three years (not necessarily true I do remember a sick day that was taken so I could sit by David Lloyd Pool for the afternoon).
I decided to occupy all this time so I booked myself a few holidays... So I'm off to Amsterdam this week for a long weekend to see my best friend (and now my love life is feeling particularly sorry for itself perhaps the Australian barman who made his intentions very obvious last time I went over). Then on to Miami for a few weeks. Yes Miami. Yes I am unemployed and can still fork out for Miami. This my friends is the joy of hard work. Eventually even in your darkest moments there are some benefits and I for one plan on sitting on the beach with my moijto safe in the knowledge that my blackberry will not be recieving any emails from work.

Befriending My Mugger

Just thought I'd tell you one of my famous tales from university...

SO my first week of University in Oxford (no before you get excited Brookes aka The Early Learning Centre not Oxford) I decided to go out with some new friends to a club in town. After having one too many drinks as one tends to do at the beginning of university I proceeded to lose my wallet. A friend of mine then asked to borrow my mobile which I happily gave her. Dancing around the club for a bit I realised that I had managed to lose all of my friends. Angry and drunk I started to walk home...barefooted. Girls you can understand how painful it is to wear stupidly high heels all night. So there I was drunk, phoneless and walletless walking barefooted in the direction which I thought was home.
After walking for forty minutes I soon realised that I was well and truly lost. Not only that but I had managed to tread on a piece of glass which had firmly lodged itself into my foot. Hobbling along I entered a council estate where a young guy on a bike rode up and stopped in front of me.
'Give me your stuff'. I looked at him, hesitated and then burst out crying. I guess he was not suspecting this as he looked at me and enquired what on earth I was so upset about. 'I've got no money, or my phone and I'm lost.' To my surprise the guy got off his bike walked over to me and enquired where I lived. He then told me he would walk me back to where I needed to go, and if that wasn't surprising enough after watching me attempt to roll in the rain took my baccy off me and proceeded to roll my cigarette for me.
On the walk home my attempted mugger admitted that he had just assumed me to be a posh Oxford girl, and apologised for making such a quick judgement. He walked me to my home and took my phone number. The next morning I recieved a call from him to ask if I had managed to get into my house okay and to make sure that everything was alright. Needless to say a very peculiar friendship had formed and during the remaining years at university whenever I bumped into him and his 'crew' up to mischief on the Cowley Road he used to wink at me and wave. My friends would look at this curious friendship and ask me who sed guy was and I would reply 'Oh him? That's just my attempted mugger.'

My Dragon's Den Project

I've decided on a new concept to deal with relationships/dating. It's an idea which would be easily accepted by Dragon's Den...if they were all women!

I have made every mistake in the dating book. It is because of this that my best guy mate created 'The Good Spoon Guide'- a dating guide with a list of rules which I have since followed religiously. (i.e. no double texting etc etc)

This however does not always work. I am a great example of this. Therefore my idea is that I hire a body double who goes on the dates for me. The date is recorded and afterwards I decide who I would like to see again.
Basically the concept as a whole is that someone else does all the hard work for me. they get me up to the point where I am in an 'exclusive' relationship, and then I step in.
See I can easily do the girlfriend thing. I can meet the friends and be the 'cool' girlfriend discussing how hot Kelly Brookes is and the latest rugby scores. I can easily do my own thing, let him have boys nights and will invest regularly in 'sexy' underwear. That is not the problem. The problem is getting there. It's the playing hard to get, being engaging in conversation but yet still maintaining the mystery, and the addressing of where you stand. This is where I fail miserably. Another me (aka my body double) would solve this. They would handle the hard bits for me and I could step in when the relationship really begins- the bit I am good at.

It seems ridiculous to me that the first few weeks/months is the time when you hide the crazy and watch what you say- knowing any mistake you make could jeopardise the future. And yet later, when you are officially committed the crazy comes out and guys just deal with it. 90% of all my close friends are guys. They are relaxed, have fun and don't bitch. Take the photo above, that's one of my best friends who quite rightly will not put up with me moaning or talking badly of other people. This is a relationship I'm good at. Friendship. Isn't that just cheesy?!

My best friend who has just finished with his girlfriend of two years. Upon breaking up he did what most guys do, shagged around. His ex decided during one of these hook ups to go to his house and peer through the window where she witnessed his new gaming skills. The ex called in sick for work all week, dead bolted the door and sent abusive messages about him to his sister. Needless to say she was hurt but peering through the window at 1am? That's just a new level of crazy.
This wasn't even the first time. She banned him from facebook and upon spotting him talking to another guy decided he must be secretly gay.
So why is it that guys in relationships put up with the crazy that would have made them run a mile on the first few dates?
Perhaps that's where I'm making mistakes. I'm doing things backwards, showing the crazy before the calm! And if this is true...does anyone know a 5ft3/4 girl with blonde hair, big boobs and a massive love for dirty innuendos?